


Life's Persistent Questions

by Moonlark



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Epic Poetry, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Sick Rhymes and Sicker Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is rotten in the state of Pennsylvania, and it's up to Kling to find out what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a tribute to Garrison Keillor and 'Guy Noir, Private Eye'. May you have fun in the old radio folks home.

The night was dark and stormy,  
But the moon shone bright and fair.  
The rain beat down upon the train  
That pulled into the square.  
The cobblestones were slick beneath  
The flickering streetlights,  
And few were out upon the town  
Who could stay in that night.

As passengers unloaded  
From the belly of the train,  
And put up their umbrellas  
To defend against the rain,  
And hailed the waiting taxis  
To conclude their midnight lark,  
A stealthy, silent shadow  
Stole away into the dark.

For a moment, let us leave behind  
This world of cars and smog  
Let us follow as this shadow tasks  
To clear her queries' fog,  
For the city keeps its secrets,  
Yet, though she knows not why,  
One woman seeks for answers--  
Meghan Klingenberg, private eye. 

In the downtown of the city  
Plate glass towers rose so tall,  
And other great skyscrapers  
Stood, presiding over all.  
But still more lowly buildings  
Filled the spaces left around,  
And this was where the office  
Of Detective Kling was found.

Her business had been dull of late,  
Without many returns  
Just checks on cheating spouses  
And some corporate concerns  
And with each such case her early dreams  
And pride began to fade  
But it was the only way to see  
That the bills were paid. 

It was a Friday morning,  
And her feet were on her desk  
She scrolled and skimmed through articles  
Of current acts grotesque--  
A shootout here, a scandal there,  
An oil spill up north--  
And idly she wished a bigger  
Case would soon come forth. 

Suddenly the office door  
Was opened swift and wide  
A middle-aged, worried couple  
Tensely made their way inside  
And shaking they recounted the  
Dark fear above their heads:  
Their loving daughter had been  
In a car crash and was dead.

The police had been investigating,  
Said it looked quite everyday  
But the poor girl's mom and dad said  
They suspected foul play  
Their daughter Kelley had been acting  
Strange the week before,  
And now they looked around and thought  
There just had to be more.

Kling nodded and then took some notes,  
Though she doubted they would prove  
To hold anything useful  
So the case ahead might move  
In fact, she had her doubts about  
The grieving parents' claim  
And she felt guilt to take their money,  
But cash was cash, all the same.

And who could know? Perhaps this case  
Was just what she might need--  
A break from the monotony of  
Cheats and corporate greed--  
(And something in her heart was touched  
By the mother's desperate face,  
And the father's painful silence)--  
So Kling said, "I'll take the case."


	2. Chapter 2

A couple hours later  
Her two new clients had gone  
And Kling was by the window,  
Staring at the sluggish Mon.  
In her head, she was reviewing  
Everything she just had learned  
With a faint hope that an answer  
Could somehow be discerned.

The parents had given her some names  
They thought might help her out,  
But they would have to wait a bit,  
For she wanted more about  
Each person on that list:  
What they did and who they were--  
And Kling would need a way  
To get that info, good and sure.

Luckily she knew just how  
That info could be found  
For she had access to the best  
Journalist for miles around--  
The story could be hidden, twisted,  
Missing, lost or blocked,  
But nothing could escape the pen  
Of Brittani Bartok.

Kling sent off a text to Bri  
To ask when they could meet  
To decide a course of action--  
Get this case up on its feet.  
Bri replied quite promptly--  
She was off that day at five  
But there was still some free time,  
So Kling went to take a drive.

She headed out Route 51  
In her old blue Chevrolet  
To see where the crash had happened  
That previous Saturday  
Rush hour was just beginning,  
And the traffic moved so slow  
But if the case was to be resolved  
It was a place she had to know.

She pulled over near the crash site,  
Got out and looked around.  
There were skid marks on the pavement  
And a gouge in nearby ground  
The railing by the roadside  
Was crumpled, broken, bent,  
And a tree trunk lay in splinters  
That the errant car had rent.

She could picture now the wreckage  
That the crash had left behind  
Though no twisted scraps of metal  
Did remain for her to find  
The violence of the scene had  
Left its mark upon that place  
A ghastly grim reminder  
That was sickening to face.

But Kling had studied worse before,  
And solved those horrors too  
And there were ways to look  
At every different case, she knew  
So she hopped back in her car  
And headed back inbound  
To the 61C cafe where her friend  
Would surely be around.

Bri was sitting in the corner  
When Kling walked through the door  
With a laptop out in front of her  
And a backpack on the floor  
She listened carefully as Kling  
Explained this newest case  
And a look of fine determination  
Came across her face.

"I'll find out what I can," she said  
When Kling had finished talking  
"We'll see what people have to tell us  
When we come a-knocking.  
But if this thing is something big,  
You'll have to share the glory--  
The usual arrangement stands:  
I get to write the story."


End file.
